In the Dark
by Bleve
Summary: He had kept her completely in the dark. Now, she would enlighten him. One version of what could have happened during and after the events of "The Last Straw." ***Contains End Game Spoilers***
1. In the Dark

****SPOILERS FOR END GAME** DON'T READ THIS STORY IF YOU DON'T WANT TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENS!  
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**A/N** - I wrote this piece after seeing "The Final Straw" quest. Most of the in-game dialogue appears here, but it is greatly expanded on. I really felt that it was lacking in emotion and depth, especially if you romanced Anders. I mean, you build a relationship with him over years, he commits a heinous act, and you don't yell at him at all? Your options are: a) it's all good, b) get out of my sight, c) or knife in the back? There should have been some emotional exchange first, and then the choice. It just felt rushed, and very anti-climatic. So, this is my attempt to rectify what I felt was lacking, with a real twist. I'm sure some people will like my twist, and some will not. Oh well…can't make everyone happy all the time.

Reviews are like Coke Zero out of the fountain…I can never have enough!

**Disclaimer** - Dragon Age, its characters, and the "The Final Straw" dialogue belongs to Bioware. I just felt incomplete after seeing it, and tried to fill in the gaps.

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><p><span>In the Dark<span>

It was sadly funny and really honestly very pathetic that as I stared at the back of my lover's head, all I could notice was that a lock of his hair had somehow escaped the confines of its ponytail. I was aware that my fixation was a feeble coping mechanism—a stray piece of hair was something I could easily remedy—the hellish inferno that burned in front of me was anything but. I had seen death and destruction all too often in my life, but this was different. The sheer brutality and scale of the magic used was intimidating and terrifying. I had never experienced anything like it, and I was born around magic and into a family with mages. It was a horrific sight: bodies were strewn around, thrown by the force of the shockwave; tongues of fire raged and danced throughout the compound.

Almost nothing could have made this atrocious scene more painful to absorb and deal with, except that I knew it was orchestrated by the only man I had ever dared to love. I couldn't reconcile my Anders with the one that had committed this magical massacre. The man who held me at night, who healed my wounds, could not be the same man who unleashed this massive firestorm on the Chantry. This Anders had condemned hundreds of innocents in the name of mage freedom, by incinerating them all—templars, mages, sisters, even the Grand Cleric herself. This Anders had lied to and manipulated me in order to carry out his crazed scheme. This Anders, who sat before me on a crate amongst the madness, was a fraud, a meager imitation of the man that I knew and cared for. I could feel the fury spreading through my gut, like the burn from a shot of dwarven fire whiskey, because I had been tricked by this doppelganger.

I was about to demand that he attempt to explain himself when he began, "There is nothing you can say that I haven't already said to myself. I took a spirit into my soul and changed myself forever to achieve this. This is the justice all mages have awaited."

"This is what you call justice?" I scream. "Your brand of justice for mages involves killing hundreds of people whose only sin was being in the wrong place at the wrong time? Lying to loved ones? Manipulating your comrades? Using me as an unknowing accomplice, a distraction to carry out your evil plan under everyone's noses? It does not sound like justice—it sounds like the act of a foolish coward."

His eyes narrowed a bit in response, but he did not speak. I continued, "You don't even trust me. I might have understood, if you'd only told me."

He sighed and stated, "I wanted to tell you. But what if you stopped me? Or worse, what if you wanted to help? I couldn't let you do that."

I shook my head in disbelief. "You couldn't _**let **_me help you? Who the hell do you think you are fooling, Anders? Not me, but maybe yourself. You have involved me in this madness under false pretenses since its inception. You asked me for help to obtain the Sela Petrae and drakestone and lied about their uses. Then, you guilted me into speaking with the Grand Cleric, using me to distract her while you laid your filthy trap. You pulled me into this all along, and only decided not to tell me what you were planning because it's easier to be a lying, conniving bastard in hiding."

He flinched at my words, and I saw him clench his fists. I knew I was beginning to get through to him, so I continued my attack. "Tell me, Anders. Have you always been a deceitful snake-in-the-grass? All your words over the years of love and gratitude, were they convenient lies as well? Did you bed me because you cared for me, or because you wanted the Champion aiding your cause?"

I almost relented then, because this wretched semblance of my Anders looked so sad, so beaten, sitting there. He replied softly, "I have loved you all along, as I still do, and will do until I draw my final breath. But, this has become bigger than just you and I. I can not just think of myself any longer. I have lived as a free man, not trapped in the Circle, or bullied by templars, because of your help. But, I still live in constant fear of being caught, waiting for the day when your status can no longer save me. What of all the mages in Thedas who don't have someone like you, Marian? What are they to do? Live in cages in the Circle and suffer abuse at the hands of the people sworn to protect them? The world needs to see this. Then we can all stop pretending the Circle is a solution."

He took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly. "And if I pay for that with my life…then I pay. Perhaps then Justice would at least be free."

"Of course," I sneer in contempt, "That is who you would be worried for. Not yourself, and the fact that you could die for your crimes. Not me, the woman who has stood behind you all along."

I spit it out with all the venom I had, "Justice. That is all you will ever be concerned for. Your twisted, warped view of what you believe justice is."

I felt my hands begin to tremble with rage, and I balled them at my side. "You have massacred hundreds of people ruthlessly and in cold blood, many of which never harmed any mage. You want to pay for what you've done with your life? But, your pay is insufficient—you are a mere shell of the man I proudly called an ally. Even your motives are suspect. I believe that you would like to die, but not to pay. You want death so that you can claim to be a revolutionary who gave all for his cause."

I lowered my head, and sighed deeply, "With all that said… I still can not bring myself to kill you."

Í felt my eyes well up, and a single tear slid down my cheek. "Know this, Anders. I really and truly loved you. I gave you everything I could—my support, my bed, and my soul. I trusted you and you betrayed me. I will no longer protect you, but I can not be the one to take your life. You will not become a martyr at my hand."

I leaned down to him, so that my lips were right next to his ear. My next words were for him alone, and I wanted to ensure that he heard them as clear as a bell.

"You said there was nothing that I could say to you that you had not already said to yourself. You were wrong. I am with child."

He spun around to face me while quickly getting to his feet. He looked shocked, confused, but his face seemed alight with a cautious glow. A few moments ago, this half-empty husk of the man I adored looked resigned to his fate, sitting on a crate, waiting for death. Now, for a fleeting second, I caught a glimpse of my Anders. He was reinvigorated, animated—maybe even hopeful. He reached out to me, "Marian, I…"

"Do not touch me. You are no longer the man I knew. Get out of my city. Now that you know, exile will be a fate worse than death for you. You made your choice, and now I have made mine."

I turned to the others, "Come…we are going to end this. To the Gallows."

I looked over my shoulder at him once last time, and left him standing there to accept his fate. He could be concerned for justice. I had someone other than him to be concerned for now.


	2. Blessed with a Curse

**A/N** – I'll be honest and say that initially I intended this story to be a one shot. Then, and I know this sounds silly, I had a dream where I saw the continuation of the story. It was so beautiful, and so painful, and so shatteringly pretty that I felt I had to try to pull it out of my head and push it into reality on paper. I only hope I can give it life.

Reviews are beautiful things, they inspire one to write! I would like to thank everyone for reviewing, especially massivelyattacked. It gave me the motivation to finish and post the next chapter of this story.

**Disclaimer** – If I owned Dragon Age or the characters, they would show more emotion. I can't blame Bioware though for playing to their male-dominated fanbase, but it's still a shame.

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><p><span>Blessed with a Curse<span>

I stood in the courtyard, feeling the heat emanating from the burnt-out skeletal remains of the Chantry. I welcomed the sensation; it reminded me that somehow I was still alive. This morning when I awoke, I thought that it would be that last one that I would ever experience. I was more than aware that my drastic plan would be considered horrific and barbaric by many, and I believed that I would more than likely be put to death for carrying it out. But, I knew that something had to change in Kirkwall, and I felt I was the man who had to start it—every revolt begins with one dissident act. I could no longer stomach being a hypocrite, complaining that mages were abused and yet somehow living unaccosted myself. My association with the Champion was my lone saving grace, which was made abundantly clear to me by Meredith herself. But, as appreciative as I was to Hawke for her assistance, it just heightened my awareness of the desperate situation that mages were in. All magic users existed in constant fear, even those with friends in high places.

It had been surprisingly easy for me to make the decision to destroy the Chantry. They were complacent, practically accomplices, just as guilty in harming mages as the Templars because they turned a blind eye to the abuse. The church seemed to be a logical target—it was a balancing counterweight in between the Circle and the Templars. I had no doubt that as long as the Chantry existed, the stalemate between Meredith and Orsino would only continue, and mages would be the ones who suffered. The whole system had to be abolished, and taking the Chantry out of the equation first would allow the remaining two to wipe each other out. A small part of me wished that there was some other solution, but I saw none. For six years, I had been patient, arguing and pleading for progess, and the situation had only deteriorated. I had learned a valuable lesson—that one cannot wait for change, he must enact it.

I thought that my decision to take action would bring me some sense of peace or conclusion. It did not. If anything, I was more disturbed and anxious. I was sick and tired of being fate's fool. It seemed that my magical abilities were constantly dictating my life to me. Looking back, I realized that so many pivotal decisions were made for me because of my magic. I was taken from my family, made to live in the Circle, and at one point, my talents somehow managed to get me conscripted into the Grey Wardens. Even now, my idea to incinerate the Chantry was something I felt I had to do—there was no alternative. Yet, ironically, I had made no choice to use magic. I was born with the ability to touch the Fade, just like Qunari are born with horns. I was damned from the start, blessed with a curse that forced my hand at every turn. At my low moments, I had often thought about ending my life, and, once and for all, snatching the little mage puppet out of fate's hands. But, it never seemed right to do because it was wasteful. This time, however, my death would result from fulfilling my objective—it would spark a revolution.

There had been one life-altering decision that I alone made, and that was to love Marian Hawke. That had absolutely nothing to do with my magic, and everything to do with hers. She was not a mage—she could not heal wounds or rain down lighting strikes—her magic came from sheer force of will, and it was just as potent. I adored her because she was fiercely supportive and stubborn in her ways. She did not see me as an abomination or a mage, just a man. She gave so much to me, and expected very little in return. I feared no punishment that the Templars or the Circle could give out, but I was terrified of facing her. I had purposefully hid my plan from her, and I knew she would be furious with me. She finished speaking with Orsino, and turned to address me. It was the first time I had met her eyes since my deed, and the look she gave me reached and shook a place deep within me. I started speaking, and she tore into me, eviscerating me, which I most certainly deserved.

I had thought that her tirade would be the worst of it, but I made the mistake of underestimating her. I should have known better; I had seen this woman persevere time and time again in ways no other person in Thedas could. I was blinded by my cause, and she was going to make me pay for it. I was so sure in my conviction that abolishing the Chantry was necessary and inevitable, that our argument only reinforced my belief. Little did I know that she was setting me up, laying a trap that I was about to spring. She confessed her love and inability to kill me. Her actions confused me, but I did not get long to ponder them. Her whispered words shattered the tenuous grip I had on my assertion that I made the right choice. I jumped to my feet, reaching for her, as realization of why she spared my life hit me like a tidal wave. She left me standing there in shock, while she went off to try and somehow clean up the mess I had made.

I could hardly absorb the words that my love had murmured to me. A child, a symbol of hope, a chance for redemption—a part of me, long slumbering, now stirred. I had given up on my life many years ago, and I had long since devalued it—it was worth nothing to me. It served as a means to an end, a sacrifice that I would willingly slaughter. Her words had given me a new purpose, a reason to survive and protect the tiny life that I had brought into this world. My life mattered, if only for my child. I felt reborn, and giddy at the prospect of being a father.

His voice broke through my joyous moment, "Focus, Anders. We still have many tasks to complete. The Chantry was just the first. She probably concocted that story to make you feel guilt. Even if it's true, you do not even know if the child is yours. You must press on, and go forward with our plans. Justice must be served."

"How can you tell me to ignore my own child," I thought with venom. "I know you have never accepted my love for her, but I will not listen to you call her a liar. She has no reason in the world to make up something like that. You think she wants to admit that a murderer fathered her child? I no longer care about our plans. I have a new focus."

I heard nothing in response from him. I knew that this was not the end of the conversation, but we would have to finish it later. I needed to go after her. I knew the battle she was about to face would be hard fought, and Merrill was not a capable healer. She would need my aid, and if she thought I was going to let her fight a battle without me while she was carrying my child, she was out of her mind. Marian had made it abundantly clear that my penance was to live without knowing anything about the baby. I recognized that she had every right to deny me—but there was no power in all of Thedas strong enough to keep me away. I marched towards the Gallows with determination in every step. I was going to need it in spades to deal with Marian and the consequences of my actions.


	3. Retribution and Redemption

**A/N** – So, here is the third installment of In the Dark. I have the entire story pretty much laid out in my mind, now I just have to get it out. I hope you all like it!

Reviews are always appreciated!

**Disclaimer** – Do I really need to keep depressing myself by announcing that I do not own Dragon Age or its characters? Bioware owns it all, I just get bitten by the writing bug.

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><p><span>Retribution and Redemption<span>

I saw the brown rusty fist of the slave statue as it swung towards me, aiming for my head. I sprung backwards, landing on the balls of my feet, as its hand raked through the empty air. I readied my daggers and lunged at it, trying to catch it off guard. The battle was not going well. From my position, I could see that only Fenris and I remained on our feet, and we both looked ragged. I was exhausted, aching in places I had forgotten existed. We all had entered the Gallows knowing that we would have to battle the Templars, but no one had anticipated having to fight an ally as well. Orsino's betrayal was maddening and senseless, in the end he had succumbed like a weakling to the very thing he claimed to be against. Twice today I had seen firsthand examples of mages at their worst, and yet I continued to fight on their behalf. I knew that honorable mages did exist, and deserved freedom—Bethany was living proof. I would not stand idly by and watch as Meredith slaughtered them all for the mistakes of a few. I pushed the fatigue out of my mind and focused.

I stabbed the slave statue in the chest, and it screeched and brought both its fists up, ready to pummel me. I spun around behind it, thrusting both blades into its lower back, and it fell to the ground. I heard my companion cry out, and turned in time to see the Knight-Commander lift Fenris off the ground, impaled on the hilt of her massive broadsword. Mercifully, his screams ceased almost instantly, and Meredith dropped him from her weapon. I heard the thud of his body as it hit the ground and narrowed my eyes in anger—this woman was going to pay.

She moved towards me, "Your turn, Champion. I will enjoy no longer having to deal with the problems you cause."

I looked around and realized that it was only Meredith and me now—no one else remained standing. I spit my words through gritted teeth, "Less talk, more fight."

I screamed and charged at her, springing forward and landing on her flank. I thrusted my dagger forward and she blocked. She attacked with her sword, and I evaded. We continued our stalemate for what seemed like hours, neither side gaining or losing. I felt my exhaustion returning, and I hoped that she was getting tired after taking on me and my companions, but it seemed unlikely. Control of the fight was slipping away from me, and the tide was turning in Meredith's direction. It was all I could do to parry her barrage of attacks, barely keeping my body out of harm's way. It occurred to me that her unnatural stamina was brought about by the lyrium idol, and I silently cursed that damn expedition to the Dark Roads.

I saw a small smirk of realization cross the Knight-Commander's face. She smelled the blood in the water and increased the intensity of her relentless assault. I tried to continue dodging the attacks, and failed. I felt the pummel of her sword connect with my shoulder, knocking me off balance, and I was thrown to the ground. I found myself rolling quickly to the right, luckily, dodging the lyrium imbued weapon at the last possible moment. Unluckily, it put me next to her foot, and she promptly stomped my arm with her boot. I groaned in pain, but I would not scream—not for this bitch. I got to my feet and brought my weapons up, readying myself for her next onslaught.

"It is a pity, Champion, that I have to kill you. You chose the wrong side, and it will cost you dearly. You should have kept better company."

"Spare me your preaching, Meredith. I would rather side with a hundred apostates than one maniacal Knight-Commander with a persecution complex."

Meredith roared as she charged at me, bringing her sword down towards my weakened shoulder. I stepped to the right, and drove Vigilance and its mate into her ribcage. She screamed out, and a burst of red light slammed into me. I flew though the air and crashed into the ground, landing on my back with my leg pinned underneath me. I heard the stomach-turning crunch of my ankle bone, and screeched out in agony. I felt my eyes well up with tears but refused to shed them.

"I am so sorry, little one," I thought to the tiny life growing inside me. "I wish things could have been different, that I could have gotten to see you. Sadly, you are stuck with the Champion of Kirkwall as your mother. If we are going to die today, we will do so while fighting."

Meredith's voice interrupted my thoughts. "It was particularly foolish of you to bed a mage. Tell me, Champion, was it worth it? You have lost everything."

My anger at her personal words propelled me forward; I would not stay on my back. I pulled myself up, and struggled to get to my feet. I was half-standing on my good leg, and collapsed, landing on my knees. I sneered, "You leave him out of this. The choices I made are mine alone, and I would make every single one of them again given the chance."

Meredith laughed venomously, "You were swayed from the start. How does it feel to be a pawn in his game?"

I stared at the crazed woman as she approached me through the fog of pain that swirled in my mind. Meredith raised her sword above me, and I closed my eyes, knowing that the end was near.

"Your pathetic companion played you and manipulated you, behavior typical of their ilk. Your precious Anders abandoned you to die alone at my hand—and so you shall."

I heard the most glorious noise—a crackle, followed by a thunderous roar—sounds that were the unmistakable hallmarks of magic.

"Leave my name out of your filthy mouth, Meredith. I will enjoy ridding Thedas of your insanity."

I heard his voice, and my eyes flew open in surprise, not believing their aural counterparts. He was there, surrounded with electricity, frighteningly beautiful and powerful. Our eyes locked, and for a brief moment, I was reminded of why I had fallen so deeply in love with him. Instantly, he was there next to me and I felt a surge pass through me. I immediately felt reinvigorated, both physically and mentally. I knew the spell he had cast had healed my wounds, but his presence alone had given me the strength I needed so desperately to press on. He began casting, hands blurring, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw the others begin to stir.

Meredith picked herself up and charged towards him, realizing that his arrival was to our advantage. I screamed—a guttural heart wrenching cry—and ran headlong at her, trying to intercept. I leaped, landing behind her, as Anders jumped out of the way. I let my rage flow through my dagger thrusts, as Fenris and Aveline closed in around the Knight-Commander.

I growled, "You will not win today, Meredith."

We had her surrounded, and after a few moments, she stumbled backwards, succumbing to the onslaught. She screamed, "I will not be defeated!"

Meredith raised the sword in front of her, trying to call on its power for her final act. It exploded, shattering, and the red tongues of lyrium consumed her. All that was left behind was an incinerated husk.

We had triumphed, but we did not get much chance to recognize it. Cullen and the other Templars quickly surrounded us. I met the Knight-Captain's stare, eyeing him warily. I knew he did not want to kill me, but that did not mean that he would not try to detain me.

Fortunately, the men looked too much in shock to do anything except stare at what remained of their leader. In the end, Cullen and his group backed off, allowing us the opportunity to leave.

I motioned for the others to follow, and exited out of the Gallows. I headed towards the Docks and Isabela's ship, realizing that we had to get out of Kirkwall and lie low. We traveled in a heavy silence, the magnitude of today's events hitting us all. This battle was over, but the war had just begun. We arrived at the ship, and Aveline was the first to speak. "Hawke…you know I can go no further."

I smiled at her. "I know, Aveline. Go find Donnic and be happy."

"If you ever need anything, Hawke, you know where to find me. Be safe." The Captain turned to everyone else, nodding her goodbyes. She left, heading north towards the Keep.

"It's farewell for me too, Hawke," Varric sighed. "You know I can't leave the Hanged Man behind."

I laughed. "I had hoped otherwise, Varric, but I understand. Promise me that you'll make me the good guy in your stories?"

"It won't make me a good storyteller to speak the truth, Hawke, but for you I will." He smiled at me, "As a farewell gift, I'll even settle your tab for you."

I patted his shoulder and returned the smile. "I appreciate the sentiment, but you would have to tender your own weight in gold."

He roared in laughter. "I'll miss you, Hawke. Be careful."

"I'll miss you, too. Stay safe."

He turned and headed north, leaving us at the dock.

Isabela piped up next, and gestured with her hand towards Anders, "So, what are we going to do with Messere Doom and Gloom?"

In all honesty, I had no answer to her question. In that moment, basking in the glory of somehow still being alive, I had not the opportunity to think about him or his return. I was still furious with his actions, and extremely disappointed at him. I was also not happy that he had defied my wishes, but I could not overlook his timing and contribution to our hard-fought win. If not for him, we would all be dead right now.

I looked at him, and again I met his gaze. But this time, instead of seeing warm chocolate, I saw an electric blue, like the color of the Waking Sea. I heard the chilling voice, and knew it was no longer Anders speaking, "I will not act as a willing accomplice and watch this fool throw away the opportunity for retribution. If he will not comply, then I will take from him the chance to earn what he was desperately seeking—redemption."

"No…" I whispered, reaching for him.

Eyelids closed, he collapsed to the ground.


	4. Mountains and Molehills

**A/N** - Hello all! This chapter is slower paced than the last, but I feel that it is necessary to have character interaction and reflection; you can't have a complete story without it. So, I hope you all enjoy reading it; I know I enjoyed writing it.

Reviews are always appreciated!

**Disclaimer** - Bioware owns Dragon Age and the characters. I own...well not much.

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><p><span>Mountains and Molehills<span>

I watched silently as the trees of the Planasene Forest passed slowly by on the starboard side of the vessel. The ship rocked gently back and forth, bobbing quietly on the placid Waking Sea. At night, I often sat on a crate in the aft of the boat, taking in the peaceful scene of lapping water and twinkling stars. From here, the world seemed to be serene and calm, but I knew it to be otherwise. We had left the city five days ago, and by now, news of the Chantry's destruction and the resulting battle must have spread throughout the Free Marches, possibly even beyond. It was still too premature to know if the events of Kirkwall would spark the mage revolution that Anders had so desperately craved. I suspected that it would, and more bloodshed would follow.

Part of me had wanted to stay in the city and try to mend the mess. With Meredith and Orsino both dead, leadership was greatly lacking and that vacuum exposed great vulnerability. However, the Knight-Captain's reluctant look when we exited the Gallows quickly squashed any desire I had to remain. I had a hunch that, given long enough to reconsider his decision, Cullen would do so. Since giving birth in a Gallows' cell was not particularly appealing, I realized that leaving the city was my only choice. My decision was a little easier to stomach knowing that Aveline had chosen to stay. In her role as Guard-Captain she would have the opportunity to aid the city greatly in its most desperate hour. Plus, she would have no issue putting Cullen or the Seneschal in their places if need be.

If being a Templar target were not reason enough for me to leave, the ultimate deciding factor had been my unborn child. During the battle with Meredith, I had truly experienced heart-wrenching guilt at the thought of my demise. Not because I would be dead; that was a possible outcome that every warrior acknowledges. I felt immense shame because my duties as the Champion of Kirkwall put my child's life at risk. I had always been headstrong, charging into battle where few others dared to tread. I was reckless, fueled by my luck and successes. I was invincible in my eyes…and a complete fool. Now that I was responsible for another life, I had to think before acting. I had to put my child before all else.

Even if that eventually meant that I would have to choose the life of my child over that of the man I loved, who lay unconscious below deck. Anders' arrival and subsequent forced departure had thrown me through a loop that day at the Docks. I had barely registered that we had defeated Meredith when Justice made it abundantly clear that he did not approve of Anders' behavior. Apparently, I was not the only being exasperated by the mage, but that still did not give Justice the right to force the situation. I was infuriated that the fade spirit seemed to think that Anders had not sacrificed enough, as if blowing up the Chantry and ruining his relationship with me were insufficient. The gratitude I felt for his assistance during the battle and my anger at Justice's mental abduction had been the deciding factors in my decision to bring his comatose body onto the ship.

None of my companions had outwardly questioned my reasons for bringing Anders along, through I was sure all of them pondered it to themselves. However, Fenris made his displeasure evident by the look on his face when I asked for help in moving the mage. To his credit as my friend, he helped lift the man, albeit not very gingerly. Additionally, no one had asked about our destination. Isabela only wanted to know what direction to sail in, and I told her to head west for no particular reason. For the vast majority of the time we had been sailing, they had left me alone. I assumed that they were giving me time to absorb what had happened and formulate a plan. They were all used to action-now-think-later Hawke, the leader, the decision maker. I was sure they expected me to know what we were doing, but, truth be told, I had no clue.

The fixer in me wanted to assist Anders, even though he had caused me a lot of anguish. My compulsion to help those in need, no matter the problem, was probably my greatest asset and biggest curse. I knew that if I chose not to help him, I would eventually regret it. One day, I would have to look into my child's eyes, and explain to him or her why I left their father to rot. I would try to aid him, but I would not put myself in danger to accomplish the task—I had to protect my child. What made the situation more frustrating was that I was not even sure I could do anything for him. I had very little knowledge of the Fade and spirits, and I would need someone with that kind of expertise to save Anders. I needed help, and the only people I could turn to were on this ship. If I was going to ask them for guidance, it was only fair that I was completely open with them—they would deserve to know the whole story.

I was about to get up and head below deck, when I heard approaching footsteps. I turned my head to see Fenris sit down on the crate next to me. I smiled at him, and he nodded in reply. I could tell from his body language that he was anxious, and clearly had something he wanted to say. He wore a pained expression, one that looked similar to a child sulking after being pranked on Feastday. I decided to go ahead and break the ice on a positive note, "Fenris, if you have something to get off of your chest, please do so. You are one of my most trusted friends, and I promise you I will listen."

He sighed and grumbled, "You will hear, but you will not listen. You have not listened a single time that I have warned you previously."

I knew from his statement what the subject of this conversation was going to be, and that it was probably not going to end well; but, I let it go its natural course. I had come to the conclusion that my friends needed to know about the child I carried, and telling Fenris would be the hardest by far. I might as well go ahead and climb the mountain before the molehill. "Well, try me anyway. Who knows? This time it might actually work."

"I want to know why you did not leave the wretched excuse for a human at the Docks," he stated matter-of-factly.

"You mean why did I not leave the wretched excuse for a human—unconscious and incapacitated—at the Docks," I sighed.

"His present state is better than that of the poor souls whom he condemned to death. He did not deserve to be rescued."

"You might have been able to leave him, Fenris, but I could not. His contribution to the battle with Meredith is what made the difference between winning and losing. You, I, and everyone else would be dead right now if not for him."

"The mage may have saved our lives, but that does not excuse the hundreds of innocents he slaughtered. I heard you tell him, with my own ears, to get out of Kirkwall and leave your sight. You said that you would no longer protect him."

"He was also conscious when I said that to him. If he were able to fend for himself, he would not be on this ship," I spoke the words to convince him as much as myself.

"I do not understand your blind loyalty to him. You deserve better than what he offers, Hawke," he paused, shaking his head in resignation.

The ensuing silence was heavy with emotion. During our travels, it had been no secret that Fenris and Anders despised each other. It was not surprising; they were polar opposites in many ways. Isabela had often teased me that a large part of their mutual hatred was due to some jealousy on the elf's part at mine and Anders' relationship. At the time, I thought she was just being silly. Now, I could almost see it.

I could hear the bitterness and frustration in his voice when he continued, "Your precious mage has done nothing but deceive and manipulate you, and yet you still want to save him. I am beginning to think that you enjoy the abuse; it's almost as if you ask for it."

His accusation that I brought this mess upon myself struck a nerve, and the anger rose up in my throat. I had done nothing to deserve this mess. I sneered with contempt, "Right—Anders was always horrible to me. He never sat at the fireplace and told me stories, he never held me in his arms while we slept, and he never told me he loved me." My tone dripped condescendingly, "How did I not see it before, Fenris? For six long years, all Anders did was harm—there was never any good. I absolutely got what I had coming to me."

I saw him flinch as my words dug in, and he growled, "I am sure he was a convincing actor."

I lost control of my tongue at his implication that my love of six years had been nothing but a well thought-out farce. I snarled back, "Yes, he went to great lengths to fool me into thinking he returned my love. His most persuasive performance was impregnating me."

Fenris' green eyes were frighteningly wide, and his jaw hung open at my words. He was clearly shocked by the news, and as far as I was concerned, deserved it for being a callous ass. I stomped off towards the bow, not caring to hear his response.


	5. My Mother's Daughter

**A/N**: So, I know this chapter has been a long time coming. All I can say in my defense is that summer courses, especially in Genetics and Functional Histology, are time consuming, to say the least. This chapter was a ton of fun to write, probably because I hadn't done so in quite some time. More background than excitement, but you have to build before you can reach a climax!

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Dragon Age or any of its characters. If I did, the Anders shirtless mod wouldn't have been a mod—it would have been original code.

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><p><span>My Mother's Daughter<span>

I noticed that my sibling's lower lip quivered, as her mouth hung slightly open. The light thrown from the burning embers in the fireplace made the room feel cozy, but the expression on my sister's face did not match the scenery. I feared that I may have been wrong about how she would react to my admission, and her lengthy silence made me extremely nervous. She was not making a sound—I wasn't even sure she was breathing—she just sat there beside me, staring like a statue. I recalled a time as a child when she had worn a similar expression. We had been told by my mother to go gather eggs from the hen house, and both of us had grabbed a basket and gone out back. When we got to the coop, I pulled rank on her, and said that I was going in first to get the eggs. She had gotten so angry, but I, in typical big sister fashion, ignored her and her whining. The next thing I knew, the basket in my hands was ablaze and I was screaming in terror for my ma and pa. After my parents arrived, I calmed down enough to notice that Bethany was staring in absolute disbelief at her tiny little hands.

She exhaled deeply, which brought me out of the trip down memory lane. "Well, at least that explains why you chose not to kill him or leave him on the dock. I couldn't understand why you banished him from your sight, but then brought him on the ship. I thought maybe you had finally cracked under the weight of all this foolishness."

I laughed at her. "Well, I wouldn't stop questioning my sanity yet, sister."

She shook her head sadly, "I have no intention of doing so. What were you thinking? Why would you even get involved with him?"

"I tried to avoid it." Bethany scoffed, and rolled her eyes. "I did, sister. It was just some harmless flirting in the beginning. But then, I saw him for what he really is. He may be an abomination, but he is still very much a man—a lonely, fragile man who needed an ear and a friend. I tried to stop it there; I really did. But the more I saw of him, of the terrifying beauty that he is, I had to know it all. I was hooked. I was in frightening awe of him, and even though I could hear warning bells in my head, I could not stay away. I've witnessed him at his lowest moments, and even then, I just wanted him more. When mother went missing, he searched every inch of Kirkwall with me. The others looked for her as well, but he was the only one who would not rest. When I told him to go back to the mansion, he said to me, 'When you rest, I will as well. If you are not resting, then neither am I.' He was the one who…" my voice broke, laced with pain. Even now, after all this time, my mother's death haunted me.

Bethany reached across and placed her hand on my knee reassuringly. Tears welled in my eyes as I continued, "...who took her out of my arms. He knew that I would not leave her there, so he carried her, so very gently, all the way back to the mansion. He used no magic, he took no offer of help—he just brought her home. For that reason alone, I will love him for every damned minute of my life."

I met her gaze, "My feelings aside, I never intended to bring a child into this. The Maker knows our relationship was complicated enough, to say the least. But I won't sit here, wasting time, questioning why it happened. It has and now I will deal with it."

She sighed resignedly, and smiled at me. "You were always so bull-headed, so stubborn—the person who could just make things happen. You are such a ball of energy, and it was often easier to stay out of your way and let you do whatever you wanted. Not this time, Marian—I won't let you struggle with this alone. So, we will deal with it, together."

The dam that I had built around my emotions over the last few days broke at her words, and the tears flowed down my face as I sobbed. My head found her shoulder, and she wrapped her other arm around my back, comforting me. We sat there for a little while, until I said, "You know, I am the big sister. I'm supposed to comfort you."

"You do everyday, Marian. You are always taking care of me. I would have never survived in the Circle if you had not been watching me."

I laughed as a silly thought crossed my mind, "Could you imagine what Mother would be saying right now?" I summoned my best impression of my mother's rich timbre, "You should have gotten married first, Marian. A proper lady does not have relations out of wedlock."

We giggled like a couple of little girls, and then Bethany chimed in, "She would have the Revered Mother come marry you two at his comatose bedside."

We laughed together fondly at the thought. I smiled, "I miss her all the time—especially now. I often wonder what she really would say about all this."

My sister patted my hand and grinned, "You are your mother's daughter. Both of you are cut from the same cloth. Mother made a gutsy choice to give up everything to be with Father, and she would have understood your feelings for Anders—the love, the frustration, the anguish—better than anyone. She would have loved and supported you, just as I will."

I smiled at her, "Then it is time I told everyone, and hope that I earn their support as well. I want them to know everything before I ask for their assistance."

Her brows furrowed, "Their assistance with what?" She narrowed her eyes, and met my gaze, "Let me guess, since I know all too well your penchant for helping the helpless and the cargo we took on board."

I rolled my eyes at her description, "Five heads are better than one, and I know very little of the Fade and spirits. I do not even know if it is possible to help Anders. But, I have to try—I have to be able to tell my child that I did everything in my power to save their father."

Bethany continued her questioning, "So that is your only motivation?"

"It is my strongest motivation," I grumbled, breaking away from the eye contact. "I let him live so that one day he would have to tell our child of his horrible deeds and explain his actions. I could think of no better or more fitting sentence for what he did, and he does not get to avoid that punishment."

"Very well," she acquiesced, but I could tell by the look on her face that she thought there was more to it. "Come—let us go share the news."

* * *

><p>I eyeballed everyone's face in the room as I made my announcement, paying particular attention to Merrill and Isabela. After all, they were hearing this information for the first time, and I wanted to gauge their reactions. Isabela looked highly amused, of course, wearing a smirk that was larger than her cleavage, but only just so. Merrill seemed somewhat puzzled by my words; her left eyebrow arched in its typical, inquisitive manner. My sister smiled as I spoke, nodding her head in reassurance. When my eyes wandered to Fenris, I was not surprised to see him glowering.<p>

I braced myself mentally for the onslaught as I continued, "It is no secret that the last few days have been unsettling for everyone, but I wanted you all to know the whole story. I did not intend to mislead you, or have any of you entering blindly into a complicated situation. Now, all the cards are on the table."

I paused, and put a hand on Isabela's shoulder, "Captain, I owe you an apology. I should have told you everything before we used your ship to escape."

Isabela shook her head, "No, Hawke, you don't. No one could have guessed what was going to happen in Kirkwall, and I offered passage to you and Anders long before. Of course, I had no idea it would be a family affair," she smirked.

I shot her a look, and she went quiet, but kept the smug grin on her face. "I have a suggestion, Captain, for a destination. With your permission, I would like to dock in Nevarra."

Isabela nodded her head in assent. "If anyone wishes to go their separate way when we reach Nevarra, I understand. None of you owe me any boon. If anything, I owe all of you a debt for your service."

Merrill interrupted, still looking confused, "What if we decide to stay with you, Hawke? What do you intend to do?"

I stated, "I am going to find a way to cure Anders." I heard the hiss of disapproval escape Fenris' lips.

My Dalish friend smiled at me, "I figured you might, and I have thought of someone who might be able to help us. But, we would need to get word to Minrathous."

Realization of who she was speaking of hit me like a ton of bricks, and for the first time in days, I felt like there was some hope for resolution. The moment was short lived, as a string of Tevinter curse words filled the room.


	6. Shackles and Saviors

**Disclaimer** - I do not own Dragon Age or any of its characters.

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><p><strong>Shackles and Saviors<strong>

The passing murmur of the crowded docks of Cumberland reached my ears as I sat staring at the bustling longshoremen from my crate-perch on the deck. We had arrived in Nevarra ten days ago, and I had immediately disembarked to find a courier to carry my letter to Minrathous. I had kept the missive short and lacking in detail, in case any prying eyes managed to peruse it. It contained a simple invitation to the recipient to visit an old friend in Cumberland as soon as possible at the Waking Sea Inn, and I signed it "Varian." I had no doubts that Feynriel would recognize that particular name, and put two and two together to figure out the true sender. I fervently hoped that he would heed my call for assistance, but only time would tell.

When I had returned to the ship that day, I was glad to see that everyone remained, including Fenris. Truth be told, he was the only companion I had expected to leave me the moment the boat hit the dock, and I was pleasantly surprised that he had stayed. We had consistently argued since Merrill suggested obtaining Feynriel's assistance, and he had sworn, yelled, and pleaded so many times that I had lost count. His stance was based on his absolute loathing for any and all things Tevinter, which I could sympathize with and understand. However, I also saw the logic in Merrill's proposal—whatever was affecting Anders involved Justice and the Fade, and therefore, Feynriel should be able to at least shed some light on the situation. I even put forth that Feynriel was not born in Tevinter, but that mattered not to Fenris. After all the tension, it had seemed inevitable that he would leave, and yet he did not.

So, we had all settled in to Cumberland, waiting for a response. Rooms were rented at the inn, in anticipation of Feynriel's arrival, and to give us all some much deserved space. I assumed that most of my companions would be glad to get a break from the confines of boat-living, except for Isabela, who thrived in it. I made the decision to stay on the ship for the duration of our visit, since moving Anders was not an option. At first, Bethany balked at the idea, but Isabela assured her that she would keep an eye on me. Staying at the inn would also give them an opportunity to do some "listening" in the common areas. Tales of Kirkwall were spreading, and I wanted to keep an ear to the streets and a low profile, if possible. Quiet, graceful footsteps and the dainty jingle of bracelets broke me out of my thoughts, and I turned my head to see the Rivaini captain standing next to me, smiling like the cat that ate the canary.

"Nothing like watching some strong, sweaty men move crates around, hmm?"

I chuckled, "I could think of worse ways to pass the time—or better."

Her eyes sparkled mischievously, "I bet you could, considering your present state. Speaking of which," she touched her collarbone, "Maybe I shouldn't be wearing this fertility talisman. I was daring fate enough just by having it around my neck, but now that a pregnant woman gave it to me, I'm practically begging for trouble."

We both laughed raucously at her statement, which was followed by a comfortable silence while enjoying the view. She started, "So, what are you going to do when he wakes up?"

I paused—she had caught me off guard—and I wasn't sure how to even answer such a loaded question. I decided to go with stalling, "You mean if he wakes up."

"No, I mean when. Once you decide to do something, Hawke, it happens. There is no doubt in my mind that you will find a way to revive him."

It gave me enough time to recover, "We go our separate ways, Isabela. You heard my last words to him and I meant them."

She smiled sadly, "Still angry, I see. Well, I won't tell you that your feelings are unjustified." She raised her left eyebrow inquisitively, "I must be an incredibly lucky woman…"

Her cadence and tone left it clear that she wanted me to ask, and I reluctantly decided to play along. Conversations with Isabela were usually fun, but I wasn't sure that I liked the overall direction this one was taking. "How so?"

"I was the sole reason that the Qunari ended up in Kirkwall. My acts led both directly and indirectly to the deaths of countless people. Still, you fought for my life, and found some way to forgive me."

So much for fun, I thought sourly, as I realized just what she was implying. "It's not the same, Isabela. You brought the Tome back. You tried to atone."

"He came back too, Hawke. He showed up and saved all of our asses, but there is no doubt in my mind that his appearance in the Gallows was borne solely out of concern for you. My actions, unlike his, were always purely selfish in nature. Even when I returned with the stupid relic, I did so because I did not want to bear the guilt. At least Anders thought he was doing something for the plight of many, however misguided he may have been."

I shook my head slowly, and she put a hand on my shoulder, "Just do me a favor and think about what I said."

Our conversation was interrupted by the sound of footsteps on the gangplank. As Fenris approached, I could see tell-tale signs of agitation in his gait. We made eye contact, and the scowl he wore upon his face left me with no doubt that my guest had arrived in Cumberland.

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><p>Everyone sat around the common room of the ship, each of us taking turns, filling in bits and pieces of what occurred in Kirkwall for Feynriel. After our guest had been shown his room, we had taken our meal together at the Inn, and then returned to the ship to hold palaver. Conversation at supper was kept light, mostly Merrill and Feynriel carrying on polite chit-chat, with Bethany and myself interjecting at times. Surprisingly, Fenris joined us for the meal, but he did not speak and I noticed that he had sat as far as he possibly could from our guest. While we spoke, I took notice that Feynriel's demeanor had changed much since the last time I had seen him. He seemed more confident and in control of himself, and it was evident that his training with the Imperium had paid off. It gave me hope that we had some small chance of success after all.<p>

As we told the tale, Feynriel's facial expression remained stoic, until the mention of the destruction of the Chantry and the subsequent battle with Meredith. His eyes widened a bit and he spoke, "Incredible. Rumors and half-truths had made their way to Minrathous, but I did not dare believe them."

My melancholy voice echoed in the room, "It doesn't end there, my friend." I recounted what happened as we fled the city and arrived at the docks—the other-worldly words issued by the "kidnapping" Fade spirit—and the subsequent collapse of Anders. "So, we sailed, without really knowing what to do for him or where to turn, until Merrill suggested we contact you. I would welcome your assistance if you are willing to give it, but I also understand if do not want to involve yourself in this."

He stated, "Hawke, I owe you my life, and much more. I would have ended up dead or tranquil without your assistance. Of course I will help with what I can. I did not travel all the way from Minrathous to turn away now."

I smiled deeply and breathed a huge sigh of relief upon hearing his pledge of aid, "So, what can we do? I have little understanding of the Fade and spirits, but it is clear from Justice's actions that Anders was," I struggled with a term that would fit, "overtaken."

His voice was full of warning, "I will not sugarcoat the truth, Hawke. There may be very little we can do. I can definitely get you into the Fade, and you should be able to speak with him, but I think that is all I can promise. Dealing with spirits in the Fade is complex enough, but Anders is an abomination. He is spirit and man together, and that will make it more difficult."

I nodded, "I know, but I have to try to free him. I cannot leave him in this state." I met his gaze and could see the gravity written on his features.

His eyebrows furrowed together, "I know you've been in the Fade before, but that was different because you did not have a personal connection with me. This time, your relationship with Anders will make you much more vulnerable. There is no physical harm done in the Fade to humans, but the mental anguish can be excruciating. From what Justice said that day, it sounds like he and Anders are in conflict—they will be unstable and extremely erratic. He may lash out at you one minute, and try to comfort you the next. They are both experiencing great inner turmoil, and you could easily be a target for one or both of them. Anders is very much a wounded animal in a cage right now, Hawke, and you need to be aware of the potential danger."

I shook my head, "I understand. How quickly can we enter the Fade?"

"That depends on how many people you intend to take. Normally, it takes several mages and a significant supply of lyrium to get a non-mage into the Fade. My powers grant me the ability to project a non-mage into the Fade without the additional requirements, but I can only send one. If you desire to have more people enter, then we will need the lyrium and the assistance of other mages, trained in Fade travel. I have some colleagues in Tevinter..."

I heard the elf snarl at the mention, and I quickly interrupted, "I will go alone. Anders has been in this state for quite some time, and if he is in some sort of internal distress, I do not wish to wait any longer."

He stood up, "Take me to him then. I'll begin the preparations."

Before I could even get out of my chair, Fenris interrupted, seething, "Hawke is going into the Fade to face a split-personality, magical maniac by herself? That is acceptable to everyone?"

I spoke with authority, "Bethany and Merrill, will you please take Feynriel to Anders and help him with anything that he may need?" They stood up and beckoned to Feynriel to follow, and they all disappeared into the next room. Isabella excused herself by saying, "I'll be in my quarters. Do keep it down, you two, and do not break the ship."

I rolled my eyes at her words, and once we were alone, I let out a very long, exasperated sigh. "Where do I begin?"

He scowled, "You can start by using your head and rethinking this foolishness. It is crazy enough to want to save that waste of space from the Fade, but it is even more ridiculous to go alone."

"You heard what he said. Do you really want to involve magisters in this?"

He growled, "Do not try to use my hatred as an excuse for your impatience, Hawke. If having fifty magisters involved in this farce guaranteed you success in reviving the mage, you would march them here post haste. You are willing to go in by yourself because it gets you in sooner, and that is the only reason."

I refused to feed into his anger, and I kept my voice calm and level, "My reasons do not concern you, Fenris. I am not asking you for permission. I am going to do what I think is best, and while I appreciate and value your opinion, I am not always going to blindly follow it. I recognize that you disagree with what I am doing."

"Disagree?" he scoffed, "I loathe what you are doing. Even unconscious, that mage has his claws into you. You are a fool."

My annoyance was growing and my patience was waning, so I shot back with, "Then why stay Fenris? You are a free man. If you want no part of it, then go. I know freedom must be a hard concept for a former slave to grasp," my voice dripped with sarcasm.

His face was inches from mine in a flash, and I could feel his breath against my cheek as he hissed, "I do not wish to see my savior bound to her own master. I am trying to save you from yourself, and I will not leave until you realize."

I did not flinch as his words sunk in. I brushed past him and professed defiantly, "Some shackles cannot be broken."


	7. Demonstrations

**A/N** – This chapter was a tough one to write and read. It took longer than I expected, and it went through several forms before I felt that I had found the correct one. I am hoping that it will invoke in all of you what it did in me. If so, it will be a success.

Please review! They feed the little hamster that makes the story-wheel go round!

**Disclaimer** – I do not own Dragon Age or any of its characters. I do own an unending obsession with Anders however.

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><p><span>Demonstrations<span>

The earthy aroma of fragrant wildflowers filled my lungs, and a gentle breeze rustled the limbs of my ancient shelter. I was sitting against the trunk of a large oak tree, enjoying the shade that it provided against the dazzling, noon day's sun. In front of me, a large, hilly pasture stretched across the land, encompassing it as far as my eye could see. It was such a quaint little spot, the kind of place that a person would escape to for relaxation, if only it were real. The scenery of the Fade could take any form, and it was almost too easy to forget that it was a façade. But, for all its fakery, it still served my captor's purpose very effectively—I had learned early on that I could not pass the shadows formed by the oak's branches.

"How much longer will you keep me here?" I said aloud to the emptiness.

The disembodied voice of my jailor responded, "Until you realize that you are making a mistake."

I cackled uncontrollably like a lunatic under the spell of a full moon. "You'll have to be more specific—I have made many mistakes along the way—my biggest was offering you a host."

"Lash out if you feel the need, Anders. You will eventually acquiesce, and I can wait for that inevitability. You, on the other hand, are in a different position. The passage of time, of months in particular, is most important to you."

I sneered at his implication, "So, how do you plan on lecturing me this time? Are you going to use my own, intimate memories against me again?" A smirk spread across my lips, "If so, I have a particularly fond memory of a night that I spent in Amaranthine that I would love to relive."

His voice boomed, "This is not a game. I am not doing this for your amusement. I am trying to make you see that your decision to turn your back on your peers is a foolish one."

"I have done no such thing. I still intend to do what I can for mages, but I have to reconsider my methods. I can no longer be reckless with wanton abandon. I started the fires of revolt, but someone else will have to stoke them. I have to think of someone else now before all others—I cannot be both a revolutionary and a father. A person committed to their cause would give their life for it, and that is no longer who I am."

"So what do you suggest instead, Anders? More twiddling of thumbs and idle chatter? How far did that get in Kirkwall? The time for measured responses has long past—now is the time for action. The Chantry is reeling, and we need to strike while we have the advantage."

I muttered in disgust, "What would you have me do, Justice? Continue the fight and walk away from my own flesh and blood? You know better than anyone else that I would rather die—it will not happen. I remember all too well what it was like to be young and alone, and I will not subject my child to that.

He sighed deeply, "I had hoped to spare you this, Anders, but it seems that nothing else will convince you that the path you are choosing is the wrong one. If you wish to protect your family, I suggest that you recognize the true threat."

At his words, the scenery shifted slightly. A gray plume of smoke appeared on the horizon, and the shadows formed by the branches disappeared. I wasn't surprised at the manipulation—Justice and I had played this kind of game before. It was his idea of persuasion, orchestrating scenes within the Fade while using familiar places and people, in order to convince me that I was being foolish. The difference this time and with this place was that it was totally foreign and not at all from my memories.

"I'm not playing along this time," I stated matter-of-factly to the open air.

Silence. I sat there for a while, refusing to budge, but I eventually gave up. He knew that I would be the one to cave, as he was unfortunately correct in his earlier assessment of who had time to spare. It was clear that he wanted me to head eastward, since he had removed my cage, and the only thing that had changed was the appearance of the smoke. I stood up, brushed off my robes, and headed towards the plume. The afternoon sun was waning, but it still was strong enough to pleasantly warm my forearms. The soothing sensation was in stark contrast to the feeling in my gut as it roiled nervously. I felt like I had been freed from one trap, but that I was about to walk into another. I crested the hill and saw below me an old, winding dirt road. Off in the distance, the path appeared to snake its way towards what appeared to be a small homestead with smoke rising from its chimney.

I asked out loud, "What is this place, Justice?"

Again, he gave me no response. "Ignoring me?"

Still no answer. It made me more anxious that Justice remained silent. Previously, he had spoken to me and even argued with me during his "demonstrations." With dread clawing at my heels, I started down the road towards the benign-looking structure.

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><p>I cautiously approached the front courtyard of the building as a sense of foreboding washed across me. Along the fence line, I saw a dog lying motionless on the ground and went over towards it. For the first time, I had recognized something in this place, and my stomach sunk in apprehension and disgust. It was her hound, Sonreir, mortally wounded and covered in gaping injuries. Whoever had done this to the animal had done so recently; the blood pooling around the corpse was still fresh. Fear rippled through my mind as I realized that Sonreir would not be far from his mistress. Unfortunately, I arrived too late to do anything for the Mabari, and I needed to find her. I moved towards the front door and realized that it was partially open.<p>

As I crossed the threshold, the light from the burning fireplace illuminated the common room, and my eyes were drawn to the chaos. There were obvious signs of a struggle: dishes lay shattered on the floor, broken table splinters littered the room, and chairs were overturned haphazardly. I stepped over the debris and made my way into a hallway with two doors. The first door I came across was open, and it led to a small, empty bedroom. I continued further down the passage towards the other closed door.

As I approached, I heard noises that caused my heart to seize in its chest—spent breathing, a child crying softly, and finally, Marian's voice, full of anger and defiance, "If any of you so much as twitch a muscle, I will cut your Captain's throat before your very eyes."

My visceral instincts took over before I could remind myself that it was an illusion, and I charged headlong into the room. My eyes immediately sought out my beloved, who stood boldly in the center of the room, holding her dagger to the bulging jugular of a Templar. She was surrounded by six armored men, all with their weapons trained on her; but she held her ground between them and a bassinet along the wall behind her.

Sounds of gasping and choking filled the room, and I realized that in my frenzied haze I had not seen the body slumped at Marian's feet. My eyes traveled along the wounded form—the crimson-stained robes to the sandy blonde hair—and then realization shocked me like a thunder bolt. My lungs refused to take in a full volume of air and my mind reeled in disbelief.

My voice, weak and delirious with pain, came out of the prone man, "Marian…"

I saw her jaw quiver for just a moment, and then her eyes narrowed in hatred. She too had heard the death in his voice. "Let's make a deal, Captain—considering that you are in no position," she pushed the knife against his skin, "to argue. Let me," her voice cracked, "say goodbye and then I will submit to you to face whatever charges the Chantry brings against me. My other condition of surrender is that custody of my child must be given to my friend, Fenris."

He responded, "How do we find this Fenris?"

"No need. He will find you."

"Then you have my word."

Marian shoved the man away from her, in the direction of his cohorts. She dropped to her knees and gently lifted the dying man's head into her lap. Tears streamed down her beautiful face and fell silently on the cold, hard stone. For the first time, I could see the man's face—my face—and my mind could no longer deny what I was looking at. Somehow, I was getting a glimpse of what the future could be, of what was possible. I snapped like a sapling branch under the weight of a heavy frost, "Enough, Justice! I have had my fill of this farce."

Again, I was ignored, and I tried to turn away from the horrible scene I was witnessing. I tried to lift my feet to run, and they would not respond. I tried to turn my head, and it would not budge. I tried to snap my eyelids closed, and they remained wide open. Then, I heard Justice's gravelly octave, "I am sorry, Anders, but you must see."

My vision blurred and when my eyes cleared, I was looking at Marian's glorious face above me. I heard my own voice whisper, "My love…"

I felt a finger run across my lips, "Shhhh, husband. Rest easy, I am here."

Words came out of my mouth on their own accord, but they were the same ones I would have spoken. "Our son…" I muttered.

"He is safe. I have their word that they will not harm him."

I let out a tired sigh, "Good."

My hand shook as I reached up and gently cupped her cheek. She took her fingers and pressed them against mine, holding them steady. I peered into her sky-blue irises, willing myself to concentrate through my haze of suffering. She looked so shattered, so raw—full of despair and crushed beyond hope. New tears welled up in her eyes as she whispered, "I am so sorry…"

With my last strength, I interrupted her, "No—no apologies. I would do it all again, without hesitation or second thought." My voice hitched as my lungs burned, "I love you, Marian."

My vision darkened and once again I was on the sidelines, observing the horrible moment without being able to tear my eyes away. I watched as my chest stopped rising and falling, and I heard a single cry escape her lips as she pressed them against mine one final time. She reached down and gently closed my eyelids with trembling fingers, as her body began to shake in sorrow.

I was so engrossed with Marian that I barely noticed the Captain approach her from behind, and, at first, I thought he was preparing to take her into custody. Then, he pulled his blade from behind his back, producing a scraping sound that sent chills down my spine. She was drowning so deeply in despair that she didn't even hear the noise, but I realized what he meant to do. As he brought his weapon into its ominous position, I began to scream.

I watched as he drove the longsword through her back, piercing her clean through to the other side. She looked downwards at the metal, and then her eyes closed, as she began to choke on her blood. He braced his boot against her back to pull out his sword, and she slumped to the ground like a rag doll. He leaned over her and sneered, "There are no trials for Templar killers."

One of the other Templars asked, "What about the child, Captain?"

"Leave it. It's the spawn of an apostate and a murderer—nothing could come from that union that is worth saving."

I begged my body to lunge at the Captain, wanting to choke the life out of him with my bare hands, my mind flooding with murderous rage. But, it would not respond. All I could be was silent as I watched the only woman that I ever dared to love take her dying breath next to my bloody corpse. All I could be was helpless as I witnessed the Captain set the house ablaze with my infant child still inside.

The flames licked around the room, consuming the structure, the furniture, the bodies of myself and my family. Their red beauty danced and surged around me, branding into me all of the frustration, all of the fury, all of the wrath, that I swore I would make my enemies feel. I realized that as much as I loved my family, I could not be with them. I could not be a part of their lives, as doing so put them in grave danger. Until I could be with them, every Templar in Thedas would pay. If I had to destroy the entire Chantry in order to keep my family safe, then so be it.

"I understand now, Justice," my words, solemn and heavy, echoed throughout the burning building. "I know what I have to do."


	8. Mercy

**A/N** – I acknowledge the fact that I am very, very overdue in publishing the next chapter of this story. I won't make excuses, except to say sometimes life just kicks your ass. So, if anyone is still reading this story, I apologize for this chapter's late arrival, but better late than never. I always finish what I start—just not necessarily on the timetable I originally planned. The good news is that the last two chapters are mostly written, so more frequent updates should occur from now on.

A special thanks to Sangeta for the review, it reminded me that people were still reading this story and that I was woefully neglecting it.

**Disclaimer** - Neither Dragon Age nor its characters belong to me. But, maybe Santa will bring me an Anders under the tree this year!

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><p>I became aware of an earthy aroma as I inhaled, and my eyes opened to see green, oblong blades of grass right in front of my nose. In a haze, my disoriented mind reeled, and somewhere on the periphery I remembered the words of caution that Feynriel had spoken to me. The Fade! My brain kicked into gear, and I jumped up to my feet, while looking around to take in my surroundings. I was in a simple pasture with blue skies overhead, serene and almost mesmerizing, until I saw the smoldering remains of a structure along its perimeter. The Somniari had warned me that I was about to face the completely unpredictable and unimaginable, and that I had to be ready for just about anything. Feynriel believed that this realm was under the control of Justice, and for that reason, I had to be on my guard. I had traveled to the Fade previously, so I was prepared for the ethereal feel of all that I saw. But, there was something else behind it this time, something sinister and malignant. It made my skin crawl, but I resolved myself to ignore it and focus on the task at hand.<p>

I cautiously approached what remained of the building, as it was the one thing that did not appear to fit in with the scene. It looked like it might have been a small homestead, at one time quaint and cozy, now just a pile of rubble and ash. The only recognizable feature, that confirmed to me that I was looking at some sort of structure, was one lone stone wall that stood still mostly intact. I had moved close enough to the smoldering embers that I had begun to feel the heat emanating from them, when I heard his voice. If possible, it sounded even more ominous and wretched in the Fade, "You are a fool to come here."

"Maybe so, but you knew that I would eventually find my way here. Where is he?"

Justice ignored my question, "Leave this place, Hawke. You are trespassing where you are not welcome."

"That won't be happening until after I speak with Anders."

"You are not in the position to make demands here human. But, that matters not." A snide tone entered his voice, "Anders is aware that you are here. Remember, this place is as much his as it is mine."

Goosebumps danced up my arms as he continued, "Your appearance here will not hinder our plans. For too many years now, I have contended and dealt with your interference—I watched helplessly as you dug your claws in, slowly but surely eroding my influence. That ends now."

I refused to let the apprehension that was building inside of me show, "Just let me speak with him, Justice. I will leave if that is what he desires."

He answered abruptly, "That is not an option."

"What do you mean?"

"He made the wise decision to allow me to take control. We switched places, so to speak. So that we can finally accomplish what we set out from the beginning to do."

I could not suppress the shiver that ran down my spine, as I shook my head in doubt, "Anders would never have done that."

"He was not effortlessly swayed, but I convinced him of the necessity. In the end, he came to realize that it was the only way."

I still refused to believe the spirit, "And how did you do that?"

"I showed him a future that he had not thought of. I merely pointed out the ignored consequences of his actions."

"What future?"

"The one he had envisioned—one that he was dreaming of unrealistically. He gave up on our plans so easily, and for what? To try and obtain some idealized hope that was impossible. I had to show him what he was omitting."

"Tell me what you showed him."

"I do not need to tell you. See for yourself. The outcome of his foolish fantasy is here all around you."

Dread settled into my stomach as I circled the barely standing wall and gingerly stepped into the footprint of what was once a large room. I could not make out much of anything; everything was scorched, black, burnt to a crisp. My eyes ran along the singed flooring, and I saw at first glance what appeared to be a pile of half-burned clothing. As I crossed the distance, I realized it was not just clothing, and the acidic stench of burnt flesh hit me. The remains of two bodies were strewn on the ground, and behind them, a mostly charred basket of some sort. I saw a glimmer of something alongside one of the corpses, and I nudged it with my foot. It disturbed the ashes that were covering the shiny object, and panic flashed through my mind as I realized I was staring at Vigilance, my blade. Bile rose up in my throat as I started recognizing what my eyes were seeing—two bodies, my weapon—and I searched frantically to find something to disprove my conclusion. My eyes wandered back to the burnt basket—not a basket, no, but all that remained of a bassinet—and I lurched, heaving and nearly vomiting. Shock and disgust flooded through my body, followed closely by immense anger at the thought that this supposed benevolent spirit would imitate such a horrific scene. My body shook in defiance and rage and I spun around as I heard the crunch of a boot against the floor. I saw Anders' body, but there was no doubt that Justice had control, as that sickly blue light radiated from his entire form.

He smirked, a rather sickly grin, "You and I are not as different as you would hope, Hawke. We both will use whatever means necessary to get our point across."

My voice was full of acid and hatred as I responded, "I would never do anything like this."

"Really? Telling Anders you were with child right after he blew up the Chantry wasn't manipulative?"

I growled, "Anders gave me no choice."

"He did not give me one either. Like I said, we are not so different," he smirked.

"We are nothing alike."

He sighed, "Wrong again, Hawke." He paused, and his question surprised me, "Why did you come here?"

The words were out of my mouth before I could think, "To help Anders."

"Is that all it is? Why would you want to help the man you banished from your sight?"

"Your theatrics at the docks led me to believe that he was here against his will."

"So what? Why would that matter if you no longer had any need for him? There is something else there, Hawke. I know what it is, I see it in you." The twisted smile he wore grew even larger, "I know vengeance."

"No, you're wrong," I sputtered.

"Anders was ready to die that day for what he did to the Chantry, and you would not kill him. You wanted him to live, so that you could make him suffer a lifetime devoid of his child. You wanted to make him pay."

I shook my head feebly as his words sunk in deep. "No," was all I could muster in response.

Justice kept up his verbal assault, "You want him to survive so that you can make him miserable. So that he can grow old, just as he grew up—alone and despised—never knowing his own offspring."

I screeched with rage, "I wanted him to live so that he can explain to our child why he destroyed our chance at happiness!"

He laughed then, a deep cackle, "I see—very merciful." His voice was full of sarcasm, "Clearly, there is no malice in your motive."

I stood there dumbstruck, fuming but unable to channel it at anyone but myself. He was right, and there was no use in trying to deny it any longer. I had been so blinded by my need for Anders to suffer that I had not even realized that I was seeking the very thing that I hated in him. The anger I felt at him, the only man I had ever shared so much with, for betraying and lying to me had tainted any justice that I had sought for my unborn child.

He sneered, "We are very much alike, Hawke. We both seek vengeance; I just do so with my eyes wide open."

I felt my anger morph into self-loathing, chastising myself for all that I had done, but I realized that there was only one way to change it. I had to let it all go.

"You are right, Justice. I was seeking revenge. But unlike you, I know now that what I am doing is just causing more damage, and I will do it no longer." My voice broke, heartache and anguish buried deep in my heart bubbled up into my throat, "I have seen enough sorrow and pain, and I will not be the source of more."

Tears ran down my face as I approached the possessed form of my lover. I took a shaky breath, and let the words fall from my lips, "I was wrong, Anders."

Justice hesitated, looking slightly afraid, "He is gone."

"No, he's in there somewhere and I know it. Just like you were there before, he's there now. I know he can hear me, and that is all that matters."

I ran my fingers along the curve of his cheek, "For years, I hated what Justice brought out in you. That cruel and calculating seeker of retribution, and then, I became it. It was so easy to be furious with you, it dulled the pain just enough to be survivable. But, all that anger warped me into the very thing that I loathed in you. I can not excuse what you have done to others, but I can show you mercy for what you have done to me. For the deceit, for the manipulation, for the heartache—for all of it—for everything, I forgive you, Anders."

A roar thundered from him, and he gripped his head in his hands as he thrashed about wildly. For a brief moment, his eyes flashed to the warm brown that I instantly knew. The blue light that had radiated from him turned color, and then grew in intensity until I could see nothing but blinding white light. I reached for him in fear, but my fingers raked through empty air. My heart raced as panic set in, when I heard an unfamiliar, feminine voice whisper soothingly, "Fear not."


	9. Separation

**A/N** - Almost to the end...one more chapter to go!

**Disclaimer** - I do not own Dragon Age or its characters.

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><p>Startled, my eyes searched for the source of the voice that my ears had heard. The blinding light had lessened, and I could tell now that I was still in the Fade; I recognized my surroundings—the charred building, now awash in a gentle, white light. The words had seemed to come from every direction, surrounding me, and my anxiety had immediately fled at their utterance, filling me with a peace like I had never experienced in all of my life. I was still curious about the location of Anders, but there was no more worry in my mind, no fear that he was in danger.<p>

"I am amazed and perplexed by you, mortal, and the company you keep." Whatever it was, it was clearly still here with me. The voice had an eerie, but somewhat familiar quality to it—authoritative yet gentle, like an elder talking to a hapless child. Apparently, it was curious; but I was well aware that could either be helpful inquisitiveness or malevolent mischief.

"That makes two of us then. Who or what are you?"

A single glimmer, just one tiny little point, began to shimmer and dance in front of me. It multiplied and swirled, moving hypnotically as it began to take on a humanoid silhouette.

As it formed, the creature's skin reminded me of mirrors, reflecting every ray of light, as brilliant as the sunrise over Sundermount.

"I am a child of the Maker…a Fade being, but I believe your kind calls us spirits."

It was breathtakingly beautiful, and my jaw dropped to my knees in sheer awe. I lowered my head in shame and humility, feeling wholly unworthy to be experiencing this. I had never been a particularly religious person—it wasn't that I disbelieved, I just needed proof. Faith is acceptance in the face of absence, and I had no time for such foolishness—I was a concrete person. I had observed so very much wrong in the world that it was going to take more than some supposed apathetic, absentee force to convince me. Even Anders had tried to tell me that the Maker was real, and I had laughed at what I thought was his naivety. How could a man so learned in magic believe in a god who turned his back on him?

I couldn't write this magnificent creature off as a silly human fantasy, though. I knew of the supernatural—things like demons were very much real, and I had witnessed quite a few of them in my time. I had even been told of their counterparts, but even interacting with Justice, a supposed spirit, hadn't convinced me. Proof of demons and spirits was just simply that; and it didn't mean that there was a Maker. But, this thing, whatever it was, radiated purity, kindness and truth—a child of the thing that I boldly claimed did not exist. How could I stand in front of it, now, knowing that I had denied the Maker? I trembled in the knowledge that I had been wrong, so very wrong.

Her voice was as sweet as Orlesian honey, "You hurt, so very deeply. This other mortal, he must be the culprit and yet you turn the other cheek. Sadly, that is often very unlike your kind. Why did you forgive him?"

"I…" The knowledge that I had almost lost myself caused me to struggle, "I didn't want to be like him, and that is what I was becoming. For every ounce of loathing and disgust I felt toward him, I had to carry an equal amount of bitterness and pain in my heart. I wasn't just punishing him, I was punishing myself."

"So, it was self-preserving then."

I shook my head, "Not totally, no. I won't deny that was part of it, but not all of it. I didn't want him to suffer anymore. The cycle of anguish that we shared and propagated had to stop somewhere." My fingers absent-mindedly caressed my abdomen as sadness colored my tone, "One of us had to let it go, and I knew that he would not or could not."

"A cycle? Will you tell me of it?"

The stories of our lives flowed from me like a torrent. I recounted everything that I thought mattered: how we both came to be in Kirkwall, our first meeting in his clinic, the first time we kissed, the night I finally convinced him to be with me. The spirit listened intently, only interrupting on occasion to ask for more detail. It seemed like I spoke for hours upon hours, but I couldn't bring myself to stop until it was done. I was surprised at how easy the words came out, as if I needed to get the entire tale off of my chest. My eyes stung as I recalled the betrayal, the destruction of the Chantry, but I pressed on, ending with the journey to the Fade.

The spirit stated softly, "The two of you experienced so much together…your love for him can be heard in everything you say."

"It wasn't that simple, but I duped myself into thinking it was for a very long time. In reality, I loved a part of him, and hated another."

She cooed, "Even more admirable then, for you chose to look past his deceit, even when your feelings for him were in conflict. Some of us have watched mortals, seen their hidden thoughts and desires displayed here, in their dreams. I know that your kind is capable of compassion, but I have rarely witnessed it shown so absolutely—and never towards a Fade being."

The voice sounded slightly confused, "Though, it is not just a spirit—it is a mortal as well. How did this come to pass?"

"I'm not entirely sure. I can only tell you what I've been told."

Inquisitively, "Go on."

I relayed what I knew of Justice and Anders, how they came to inhabit the same body, and the inner struggle between them that had recently boiled to the surface.

Nodding, she spoke, "It is not natural for a spirit to stay outside of the Fade, let alone share a body with a human host. I am not surprised that there was turmoil."

I nodded, "Everything in Anders' life was a battle; even our relationship was a source of discord between him and Justice. I wanted to bring him some peace; our love should have been a sanctuary to him, and instead, it just made things worse. It was not the cause of the duality madness he suffers from, but it was not a stabilizing force for him either."

The being spoke soothingly, "Do not blame yourself. No matter your actions, his condition would have only worsened. My kind does not normally get involved with mortals, because of the danger that it can bring to all involved. I know not why a spirit of justice decided to entangle himself in this way, but it must have been the most desperate of situations. It seems the mortal, Anders, offered him a host with the most noble of intentions."

She paused, seemingly in thought, before she continued, "You are both uniquely remarkable—true rarities among your kind. Your show of love and forgiveness was like a beacon to me; it called to me as a spirit of compassion, and I could not ignore it. But your story, the information you have shared with me, has moved me, mortal, in a way I did not think possible. The man, Anders, must atone for what he has done, and you are owed a chance to recover that which you have lost. I will do what I can to give you both that opportunity."

Everything around me went black, as the Fade disappeared from my sight.

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><p>My eyes flashed open and I took in a ragged deep breath, as my mind began to recognize the dark wooden ceiling of the ship above me. I sat up suddenly, the words of the spirit reverberating in my mind, and looked around, finding his body still prone in the bed across the cabin. All eyes were on me, and the concerned looks of my comrades were comforting. Behind them, I saw him begin to stir, and I leapt out of my bed to him. He was clearly dazed, rubbing his face with his hands.<p>

Softly, calmly, I spoke to him, "Anders?"

His gaze found me, "Marian…where am I?" His voice was unsteady, slightly panicked, "What have you done?"

"I did nothing. What is wrong? There was a spirit in the Fade…"

"He's gone," two simple, abrupt words left his lips, but they left no doubt about who he meant. He continued weakly, "It doesn't seem possible…but I can't ignore the silence, so foreign to me after all these years."

I asked everyone to give us a moment and almost all of them complied, except Fenris, who lingered near the door, waiting for the last person to file out. When it was just the three of us, he growled, "I will be listening and waiting right on the other side of the door, mage," and then I heard it click closed.

Quiet minutes passed, but words that I thought to speak seemed insufficient or pointless—so I just watched him. After some time, he sat up, and the blanket slid down his bare chest, as he started to get out of the bed. He made his way around the room, dressing and gathering his belongings. When he finished, he turned to face me, "You know that I can not stay here."

I nodded solemnly, "I do."

He came over to me slowly, gingerly, like he was afraid that I would bolt, "I'm not sure, but that spirit…it separated us somehow. One moment, I heard your voice speaking to me, and then all of the sudden, there was nothing. I couldn't hear Justice's thoughts, or see through his eyes—I was disconnected. I was petrified, and then the spirit spoke to me. I knew I had to try and fix things. I'm not sure that it's even possible, but I can start by helping the mages who are revolting. Justice was right about one thing…I started this mess, and I have to see it through."

He looked at me then, and his voice got even sadder, "I know that you forgave me, Marian, and that is already more than I deserve. But, I have one more thing to ask of you." He hesitated, "The baby…"

"It's good. I'm still getting sick every morning, and Bethany makes sure that I eat every day, even when I try to avoid her. She can be almost as pig-headed as you when she wants to be."

He smiled just slightly, and then his fingertips started to glow. "May I?"

I nodded, and his fingers trembled slightly as they ghosted over my abdomen. His voice cracked, "Our son is doing just fine."

Before I recognized what he was doing, his hand came up, and he reached forward, to gently caress my jaw line. I reacted instantly, turning from him and moving deliberately to the other side of the room. He sounded hurt as he asked, "So, forgiven but not forgotten then?"

I sighed, as I stared at the wall, "Forgiveness does not mean that I can just go back to what was, Anders."

"I know I changed so much that day, Marian—I shattered your faith and trust in me. But, if it takes me every last wretched day of my Maker-forsaken life, I will earn it back. I won't rest until I become the man that is worthy to be a father to our child. I won't return until I become the man that is worthy to be with you."

I couldn't face him—if I looked at him, I would crumble and beg him to stay, and I knew in my heart that he should go. I felt his hands on my shoulders as he came up behind me, and his lips brushed the side of my temple. "I know you will take care of yourself and our son."

My body shook, but I refused to cry, as he walked out of the cabin door.


	10. The Son

**A/N** – Done! Thank you to all who reviewed, and a special thank you to Trading Yesterday for their song, "Shattered." I really think this song fits the complex relationship between Hawke and Anders perfectly, and its lyrics inspired me in the most amazing of ways. Even though this story took me much longer than I intended, I'm glad that it did, because it is what I wanted it to be, and if it took extra time to accomplish that than so be it. I'd rather take nine months and produce something I'm proud of, then take three months and cringe at the outcome. And no, the irony of it taking nine months is not lost on me…

"Seeking to forget makes exile all the longer; the secret of redemption lies in remembrance. - Richard von Weizsaecker"

**Disclaimer** – This is the last time I will get to say that I do not own Dragon Age or its characters.

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><p>The silvery hue of dawn's first rays welcomed my eyes as I opened them to the sound of cranky mewing. That little, lionish roar demanded the most prompt attention and I left the warm bed to gather my baby into my arms. Hazel eyes and cherub cheeks, usually snow white but now stained crimson, greeted me as I scooped him up. I tucked him away under my robe, and he ceased crying and began suckling immediately. I smiled broadly at him, "Am I late for breakfast, little one?"<p>

The only response I received was a content cooing noise. I chuckled and made my way out onto the patio—we had established a ritual that had to be observed—he preferred his morning meal outdoors. Luckily, it was summer in Ferelden, and I could accommodate his wishes. I settled carefully in a chair, taking care not to disturb him, and wrapped us both up in a quilt that was left there from the previous morning. The sun was just beginning to rise and there was still a chill that hung in the air.

It had surprised me how routine my life had become, when it had up until recently been so chaotic. When Anders left, I had realized that I needed some place to settle and roost, but no longer had a place to really call home. After much thinking and debate with my friends, I had made the decision to return to Ferelden, knowing that the King had previously offered to reinstate my citizenship. I even considered returning to Lothering, but had decided against it—too many memories and too far from the sea. Isabela had nearly doubled over in laughter when I told her that I had acclimated to coastal living. So instead, I chose to settle outside the city of Amaranthine, where no one knew our faces, in a modest estate that cost me a good portion of the coin that I had earned while living in Kirkwall.

One of the reasons why I needed a larger home had been the needs of my extended family. I had assumed that my choice to put down roots would have caused some of them to leave, but it had been a foolish notion. Merrill claimed she had no other clan except the one around her, and Fenris' only words had been, "I owe you my life, and I will use it to protect you, wherever you go." Even Isabela had been pleased with my choice of location, as she had claimed she could sail the seas and still stop in to play Auntie whenever she wanted. So, we had all settled in and each day I had found myself thanking the newly-realized Maker for them as my stomach grew and my sanity shrank. But then, Carver arrived, and I knew happiness like none other. Ten little fingers and ten little toes lifted a burden off of my heart that I thought impossible to budge.

I heard gentle footsteps, and my sister's form appeared in the doorway—her raven hair long and flowing down her back. "Would you like something to eat, sister? I see my nephew has already started."

I nodded, grinning, "He doesn't like to wait for food."

"Well, I'll fetch us something to eat, and then Fenris and I have to go into Amaranthine for the day to get supplies. Merrill will be here if you need anything, since Isabela won't be back for a few more days."

I tried to keep the annoyance out of my voice, "It has been nearly six months since I gave birth, Bethany, I think I've recovered enough to use a sword by now."

"Maybe so, but I won't risk my nephew to find out," she stated defiantly, as she walked away into the adjoining room. Bethany had become the de facto "coordinator" of our little posse; after Carver's arrival, my friends had all insisted that at least one of them remained with me constantly, and I begrudgingly understood their reasoning. Life had been rather uneventful, but there was always safety in numbers.

When she returned with our oats, I decided to change the subject. A mischievous grin crept across my face as I teased, "You two have been spending an awful lot of time together recently…"

She blushed just a little, "Well, it took a little while to convince him that not all magic users are evil…and that there is more than one Hawke in Thedas."

I laughed, as she sat in the chair across from me and continued, "If I had known you had such handsome men following you around Kirkwall, I wouldn't have stayed in the Gallows…"

Now, we were both giggling, but I managed to get out, "So, should I ask Fenris about your trip? Or will he turn redder than you?"

I heard his gruff voice as he appeared in the doorway, "I do not blush…" He carried his bowl over, nonchalantly, to a seat next to Bethany, and gently squeezed her shoulder with his free hand as he passed, "…unlike your sister."

I had to hold in my laughter as her cheeks turned as red as they possibly could. We finished our breakfast in companionable silence, and then I shooed them out for their trip, promising them both that I would ask Merrill if I needed anything. My Dalish friend had probably had the most difficult time adjusting to her new surroundings. With the distractions of Kirkwall and the trip to Nevarra gone, the realization that her clan was no more had finally sunk in completely and it had left her reeling. She had soothed that ache by beginning a collection of Dalish artifacts and literature, and spent most of her time poring over books in her room. On occasion, she would come to chat with me and play with Carver, and the baby absolutely adored her. When Merrill held him, he would try to touch her ears, seemingly fascinated by their shape and size. For her part, Merrill was amused and enthralled by the child's antics—much like everyone else around him. My son definitely had his father's charisma.

In the many months that had passed, I had not heard anything from Anders himself, but I had heard many rumors from mouths in Amaranthine. Apparently, the rebelling Circles had coalesced into a more unified front called the Council of Mages. More interestingly, several government leaders, led by the King of Ferelden, had begun to arbitrate talks between the Council and the Chantry, in the hopes of avoiding more bloodshed. If the latest rumor was to be believed, all parties involved were close to settling their differences. The war had depleted all sides, and everyone realized that continued fighting was unsustainable. There had been whispers of Anders' involvement in the Council, but nothing concrete—nothing to prove that he yet lived. Although, I firmly believed that he did, for not many other men could have united the mages. I knew that his persistent silence was probably for the best—it ensured safety for both of us and kept emotions at a minimum. But, it still pained me that he knew nothing of his son, and everyday his son looked more and more like him.

Merrill usually came by in the late afternoon, so I put Carver down for a brief midday nap, and then decided to return to the patio for a little personal time. I figured I could curl up with a good book and relax for a bit before company arrived. The porch had to be the favorite feature of both my room and the home itself, and if the weather was decent, I would be found there. From it, I could see the private path leading to the house, and beyond that in the distance, one of the main roads that led to the towers of Amaranthine and the spire of the Chantry of our Lady Redeemer. There was something very soothing about being outdoors, with the salt in the air—it beckoned back to my days trekking along the Wounded Coast.

I shifted in my chair, the noonday sun causing my discomfort; and in my periphery I noticed movement along the main road. I paid it very little attention, as from time to time, travelers were often seen headed towards the city. Back into my reading I went, but something nagged at me in the recesses of my mind, and when I looked out, a solitary figure was making its way towards my home along the path. Company was unexpected, causing panic-induced bile to well up into my throat. I moved quickly into the bedroom, closing the patio doors behind me, and glanced into the crib to see my son which reassured my startled mind. Quickly, I made my way down the hallway to Merrill's room, knocking and entering, "Merrill…someone is approaching the house."

She dropped her book, "What? Are you sure it's not Bethany and Fenris?"

I shook my head, "No…it was just a single person, and I didn't stick around to get a good look."

I left her room, and returned down the hallway to my own, hearing her light footsteps behind me. My hands shook from the long-forgotten adrenaline rush, as I grabbed my daggers from the rack, "Will you stay here with him, Merrill? I am going to go greet our guest."

"I'm not sure it's wise to separate, Hawke."

I nodded, "I agree, but I don't think we have much choice. I'm not letting anyone get near this house unannounced—not with him in it." I locked eyes with her, "Do not leave him, Merrill. I trust you to keep him safe."

She stuttered, "Let me go out, instead."

"No, whoever it is may have seen me on the porch. They have no idea you are here. Right now, we have an advantage, in that they only saw one of us."

She nodded, and I heard the bedroom door close behind me as I walked toward the foyer. I took a deep breath, steeling myself, and then I cracked the door ajar and peered around it to find how much closer the visitor had come. Twenty or so yards away, my eyes found the now clearly masculine form, still moving slowly along the path. The hooded figure was wearing some sort of traveling robe—the palest gray, almost white, in color, designed to protect the head and body from the merciless summer sun. I pushed the door all the way open and stepped outside, calling out, "Welcome…"

The man paused at my words and carefully slid the hood back, as long, sandy blonde hair fell around his shoulders. I stopped dead in my tracks, dumbstruck, as he returned, "I may not be."

My feet ran to him, even as my eyes couldn't believe what they were seeing, closing the distance. He met me halfway, and we stood there just inches apart, frozen in the unreal moment, clamoring to just be near each other and absorbing the sensation. The months had changed him physically—his once barely there stubble had now grown into a full-fledged beard, and his shoulders and arms had broadened. He appeared road-worn and weary: leaner, harder—all steep angles and lines—and dark circles rimmed his eyes. I finally spoke, breaking the silence, "You're here…"

He nodded, and the simple confirmation toppled whatever composure I had remaining. I collapsed against him, and his strong arms supported me as I pulled him against me. His heartbeat raced in my ear, and I wrapped my arms around his neck, feeling his unfamiliar mane brush my knuckles as I locked him into place. His scruffy cheek came to rest against my forehead, tickling me, and he whispered, "…and I won't be leaving."

Intertwined and satisfied, I found it difficult to think, but after a few moments, I realized that there would be time for this and everything else later—right now, there was one thing that could not wait another second. I pulled away slightly, and took his hand in mine, leading him back towards the house. His eyes lit up as I spoke, "Come with me…there's someone you need to meet."


	11. Epilogue

**A/N** - So, this epilogue has been floating around in my head for a long time now. I had most of it written well over six months ago, but it never seemed complete. A real-life moment a few days ago gave me some much needed inspiration to complete it. And so, here it is!

A special thanks to Antgirl89, and she knows why!

**Disclaimer**: I still do not own Dragon Age or its characters. Bummer that hasn't changed.

* * *

><p>Neither time nor motherhood had slowed the unceasing force that was Marian Hawke. Half-dragging me, she moved with purpose, driven onward, as we crossed the threshold of her home. Glimpses of a foyer, sitting room, and library sped through my periphery as she led me by the hand down along a narrow hallway. She stopped me abruptly at a closed door, and her voice sounded like a bell, clear and exultant, "Merrill...all's well."<p>

The door creaked open, barely to a finger's width, and the heavy Dalish dialect carried unmistakably through the air, "What of the intrud..."

The words halted awkwardly as the door swung further, her eyes falling upon my face. She was quick to recover, "Welcome, Anders."

Nodding, I bit the side of my cheek, an effort to halt my visceral response. There was no friendship between myself and the elf, but I would keep it civil, if for Hawke's sake alone. After all, I had no right to complain about the company she kept after being out of it for so long. "Hello, Merrill."

Marian's voice interrupted my thoughts, "Thank you for keeping an eye on him."

Merrill nodded, sighing in relief. "I think that I will skip my visit today, Hawke. There has been enough excitement, and the two of you, I'm sure, need to catch up."

Stepping out of her way, I watched as she moved down the hall, disappearing behind another door. Squawking, a howling almost, interrupted across the open threshold, and Marian's smile lit in my direction. She tilted her head towards the noise, "He's always a bit cranky, especially when woken up from a nap."

Awestruck, I followed her into the sanctuary, the glorious woman before me moving with amplified grace and confidence. Marian had never been awkward, but now, every action was deliberate and fluid. My eyes moved with her form, towards a bassinet, and my heart hammered in response. For months and months I had dreamed of this moment, of the god-given gift that I had no claim to. The light, the beacon that had called to me through a fog of unrelenting vengeance and murderous hatred—my son.

She bent slightly down, cooing and soothing as she did so, lifting the boy into her arms. I've never witnessed something more beautiful in my life, and I've seen all things of the sort both ethereal and commonplace. I still couldn't bring myself to admit that the angelic tot she held was my offspring; it was so much easier to assign his majesty to the goddess who brought him into the world. He was a masterpiece, perfect and sublime, something that could not have come from the broken mess that I was. My child…could that even be possible? There could be no doubt, as I took in the familiar long eyelashes and sandy blonde hair that were a dead ringer for my own features. My heart swelled to the point of bursting, my pride at both his existence and his mother's care growing with each moment I stared at him.

Her words were soft, meant to reach me but not jar, "Would you like to hold him?"

Such a simple query, and yet it left me completely speechless and at a loss for oxygen. She brought him to me, closing the distance between, sensing my inability to respond. Softly, almost apologetically, she offered, "I know it's a silly question."

My hands moved of their own accord, out towards my salvation, reaching and grasping for the only thing I had dreamed more about than the woman standing in front of me. His eyes looked at me, hesitant, and then his little cherub fingers reached for my own. If I weren't already head over heels, now the boy had me securely wrapped around his pinky.

Lifting him gently, he stared at me, surely taking in the foreign features, eyes full of intrigue and judgment. Somehow, my tongue finally found its way to movement, "He is so amazing, Marian."

The pleasant sigh that left her lips didn't escape me, "I agree. Carver is the best of both of us."

Happy tears threatened to fall, but I managed to restrain them as tiny digits probed my beard. Then, the most innocent of sounds, a giggle, as my son pulled at the stands. A minute sensation of pain reached my brain, but I dismissed it, still fascinated by the embodiment of pure joy in my arms. My ears registered Marian's chuckle, and soon my own laughter joined theirs, as I reveled in the shared moment. Eyes wide, my boy continued his exploration, entertaining himself for several moments with my nose and teeth, before he began to howl. I looked to Marian in a panic, and she smirked while shaking her head, "Your son has my appetite."

She took the crying child out of my arms, settling herself down on a nearby couch. With her left arm, she cradled Carver in the crook of her elbow while effortlessly unfastening the top of her garment. Exposing her breast, she offered it to the hungry babe, and he eagerly accepted, latching onto the nipple while slurping loudly. Shame, sudden and heavy, weighed upon me—the realization that I had missed so many blessed moments like this one gnawing at my conscience. Voice low and remorseful, I murmured, "I'll just step outside."

Her eyes flew up, pinning me on the spot, "Stay."

I wanted to argue, my contemptuous brain screaming that I should not be witness to such an intimate moment, but her face said it all. Uneasily resigned, I moved opposite the room from her, trying to keep some distance. It was crime enough that I was an absentee father, but somehow, and even more disgustingly, I found myself fighting my most base of desires. Locking my eyes to the floor, I struggled back and forth with the truth: I was an interloper, someone who had no right to be here; but, I had never seen anything as intoxicating as the woman I love feed my child. Parts of me, long dormant, stirred to life in pleasantly uncomfortable ways, and it took all my restraint to remain still, teetering on bolting from the room, as fear that I would lose control overtook me.

"Marian..." I pleaded.

Our eyes met again, and I could see a reflection of my own inner turmoil: a swirling mixture of hunger, love, and need. She sighed deeply as she turned her upper body away from my view, placing her back towards me. Her words were hesitant, stumbling, "I am sorry, Anders. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I just...I don't want you to be away from him." She paused, pulling in a breath, "Not for even one more moment. I could stand it no more."

The ferocity in her voice, the sheer determination in it, shook me to the core. I grasped for the right words, "It was not my comfort that concerned me. I'm..." the sigh escaped my lips, self-loathing in each breath, "...wholly unworthy to be here with you both, and yet, the Maker has somehow granted me that mercy. I thought I was ready to face you and beg for your forgiveness. I was ready to accept every harsh word, every bit of rage that you would throw at me. And yet, you have openly welcomed me, like not a single day has passed, without even a word of apology."

She cut him off, rebuking him for his feeble rant, "Is that what you wish? That I would yell at the top of my lungs, cursing the day we met?"

"It would be exactly what I deserve."

She shook her head silently, still defiant, as I continued, "For the last three hundred and ninety-six days, I have done everything in my power to right the wrongs that I have committed. I have cried, begged, and groveled for forgiveness from absolute strangers, men to whom I owed no allegiance. Should I not do the same for the woman who knows me better than any other?"

In that moment, I noticed the tremble of her shoulders, and the slight hang of her head, as the mighty pillar that she was bore another load. She had always been my strength, and in my absence, had been our son's. A lesser woman would have crumpled under the weight, but she was not one. She turned to face me, a resilient smile shining on her lips as she touched them to the forehead of our son. "No, Anders. Here you will find no angry words. I need not your apology; I forgave you long ago."

Silence passed, as I found myself unwilling or unable to compete with her tenacity. Cradling Carver in one arm, she reached out to me, motioning with the fingers of her free hand. The sight of her, the center of my world, beckoning to me after all the years and all the heartache—she was still my port in the storm, still my oasis in the desert of life. The gesture was simple, but it struck me deeply, and the façade that I had so carefully built toppled. Moving before her seated form, as tears streamed down my face, I tried and failed to explain, "But, it is from you that I must seek amends. I betrayed you in horrible ways; I used you to get what I needed. All that you ever did for me was for my own good, and I repaid you in pain."

Velvet digits brushed my own, intertwining amongst them, as shame and guilt racked my body. My knees collided with the wooden floor, and I buried my face in her lap as my sobs continued uncontrollably. Her fingers moved from my hand, finding my face, as her words sought to guide me through the onslaught of chaotic emotions, "No tears here, Anders. I would not change a single thing that has passed between us, be it good or bad, lest we not have our wonderful son. Carver is worth it all."

I nodded, words unable to express just how much I agreed with her. Leaning forward, she brought her forehead to rest against mine, speaking softly, "You cannot continue to seek forgiveness from everyone while still punishing yourself. It is time for you to have mercy on you. Let it go."

Time stretched as I listened to the melody of a mother and son's breathing, the rhythm soothing the ache that I carried, both physical and emotional. Quieting, my soul relaxed for the first time in what seemed like years, a peace that I had long forgotten existed.

My ears had barely caught the sound of a small yawn that passed Carver's lips when Marian spoke softly, "He reminds me so much of you…"

The chuckle escaped my lips, before the words left, "Funny…I think he favors you."

"Really? I see nothing but your features."

"Those plump cheeks and pointy ears are all Hawke."

Her smile reached her ears, "I guess so…but those hazel eyes. They are unmistakably you."

I nodded as our son slept quietly between us, his eyelids closed. "He snores like you, that's for certain."

Groaning, she nudged my shoulder as she motioned with her head towards the bassinet. "Seems like your son wants to finish his nap. Would you like to put him down?"

Nodding, I stood up, and ever so gingerly lifted Carver from his mother's arms, and quietly settled the boy into his crib. My finger traced his cheekbone, another feature of his mother's, when I heard her words, "I promise that he won't disappear."

Smiling, I turned to her, and she continued, her voice wistful, "I remember when he was a newborn…I would put him in his bed and be afraid to turn away. I was worried that I was dreaming."

"Is that what this is then? A fantasy?"

Her eyebrow raised slightly, a tell of hers that I remembered all too well. It meant that she was taunting me, but only just so. "What do you think?"

"It's no dream. But, it is what I would call heaven."

A mischievous smirk danced onto her face as I paced towards her, coming to a stop in front of her. Lust and honesty clouded my words, "There is only one thing that I fear, Marian. And that is your rejection."

Her unsuspecting gasp satisfied some deep need within me, and it took all my restraint to keep from pouncing upon her. Her voice trembled as she spoke, "I have not turned you away yet..."

"That is true. But we really haven't spoken about _us_," innuendo flooded my tone upon mentioning the innocuous pronoun.

Barely a whisper, she murmured, "There is so much to discuss…"

"Yes there is...and I am willing to talk first, if that is what you desire."

Stepping into my personal space, Marian made no question about what she wanted. "No, Anders. I do not wish to speak first. There are other things…"

She grabbed at my hand as she slid backwards towards her bed, mimicking the familiar, hypnotic movement that she had made so many nights ago in Kirkwall. I gave in to her then, and I would gladly give in to her again, now. But, I had to hear her request it; there would be no mistaken motives here. My heart simply could not handle that crushing blow.

We landed gently on the canopy-covered bed, and I hovered over, whispering, "Tell me, Marian. Whatever you want or do not want, I will give you."

Her voice was small, quieter than I had ever heard. "Do you intend to stay?"

The anxiety in her tone and the timidness of her words brought tears to my eyes, and only the most direct of answers would do. "Yes."

"That is all I need. Please Anders...love me."

Adrenaline and desire surged through me at her request, and I could feel the energy emanating from our entangled form. I reached blindly for the sash that held back the bed curtains, cocooning us in against the world. Simultaneously, a small cry, and then a loud scream pierced the moment; Marian responded instantly, pushing me back.

I groaned, "Maker...you've got to be kidding me..."

Marian laughed, her eyes bright and dancing, "Welcome to the joys of fatherhood, my love."


End file.
